


Stepping Stones

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Young Veins
Genre: Canon, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Pain, Post-Split, brendon and sarah get divorced, guys being gays, i lowkey wanted to fight brendon, lil bit of angst, ryan ross is not ok, sarah is chill, the ending is cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 06:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After all these years the last thing Ryan Ross was expecting was a recently divorced Brendon Urie sleeping on his couch. But maybe the things he's looking to leave behind are the very things that can help hold him up, and there's only so much you can do to forget your first love, particularly when he's chasing you with the apologies you desperately need to hear. Even after everything has been destroyed between them, maybe there is still something to be salvaged and Brendon certainly seems to think so. Or at least, that's what he wants Ryan to think.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from It's All Over Now, Baby Blue by Bob Dylan (sorta inspired the work so)

Brendon Urie was asleep on his couch, arm tucked around Dottie who raised her head and blinked as he walked in before settling back down. Just, what? He’d been out for a few hours, gone over to Dan’s to pick up a couple of records he’d left over there and wound up sticking around for longer than expected. Left his door locked too, he was always careful now ever since that time he’d found Shane snooping around. He remembered double locking it, how his hands had smelt of dog food since he’d just fed Dot. Unless that was yesterday, when he’d been on set. Shit, how many times had he forgotten to lock his door? He had crazy ex-managers and lovely but occasionally stalker-ish fans. And, apparently, stalker ex best friends. Who were willing to invade his couch and house to steal his dog’s affections.

Ryan rubbed at his eyes before sighing and walking into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, staring blankly at the contents. Old take out leftovers, basically, and a couple of weird smoothies he didn’t even know why he had. He’d heard about the divorce, obviously. People tended to ask him things he didn’t know about and tell him things he didn’t particularly want or care to know, but that wasn’t how he’d found out. Brendon re-following him on Instagram? He’d known since before the official announcement. Then again, that was kinda a big hint for most people. He didn’t even know why they were so dedicated to keeping track of a friendship that had, up until whenever Brendon had mysteriously appeared on his couch, been over and done with. The light from the fridge emanated from around him and he realized he’d been standing there for a few minutes, staring unseeingly into the empty pit that was his ability to function as an adult.

The clock read 10p.m. which meant around ten fifteen now, and he’d woken up at six to take Dot for a run. He shut the fridge, going back out and up stairs before he remembered the man sleeping on his couch. Hopefully Spencer would be available to come pick him up in the morning. There was still a contact named Spencer (do not drunk dial) but he wasn’t sure whether his old friend had changed his number. Brendon probably had a current one. Who knows, maybe he’d just stumbled in drunk and they could go back to being merry strangers who occasionally met and ignored each other at random people’s parties. He dug up a neatly folded spare blanket from under his bed, heading back downstairs. There was something oddly, well, intimate about opening it out and spreading it over Brendon’s sleeping form. He blinked, letting the blanket fall over Brendon’s upturned shoulder. Dot opened her eyes again and he petted her, scratched her ears before retreating back to his room. Brendon could have his living room for the night. His dog too, his blanket if he wanted.

Ryan didn’t sleep till around midnight, turning from lying facing towards the faint light that slipped in past his blinds to facing the closet. He might be thirty, half way to thirty one but everything was larger in this half light, the bookshelf looming grey-scale out of the ink black of its shadow while the closet doors hung half open like some gateway to whatever waited downstairs. Lying on the edge of his bed, on the verge of slipping out, Ryan stared into the half darkness and shut his eyes. Eventually, after some immeasurable amount of time, he drifted off. His dreams were a mess, Brendon chasing him around on a stage in a full clown suit, an audience of formless shapes occasionally shifting into familiar faces but going before he could identify them.

Something crashed downstairs and he fell out of bed, apparently having managed to stay perched on the edge through the night. He picked himself up, glancing at the daylight slipping through the cracks in the blind. Another noise from downstairs, where he’d left, oh shit, Brendon. His pyjamas, a t-shirt and sweatpants, would have to do he thought and hurried downstairs. Brendon was sitting on the floor with Dottie nowhere to be seen. He glanced up as Ryan burst into the room.

“Hey! I, uh. I fell off the couch? I must have fallen asleep… Did I wake you up?”

Ryan blinked. “No. It’s, it’s fine. Where’s Dottie?”

“The dog?” asked Brendon. “She went when I fell off, I think.”

Dot came trotting in, sniffing at Ryan’s ankles. He absentmindedly petted her head. Brendon grinned and beckoned for her, the traitor went right over.

“How did you get into my house?” Ryan asked, remembering his worry of the night before.

Brendon laughed. “You still keep your spare key in the flowerpot. Figured I’d give it a try.”

So he hadn’t forgotten to lock his door, thank fuck.

“You don’t mind? I just needed a place to crash and figured you were close.”

Ryan wasn’t even properly sure how Brendon knew his address but hey, at least he could go stay somewhere else for now. Jesus, this was not what he needed right now. He realized he’d been standing still for too long and turned around, headed for the kitchen where he kept Dot’s food. Breakfast was something he could handle, him, Dot and Brendon unless Brendon wanted to leave now. He heard the sound of footsteps following him so yeah, food for three. 

“Could I have something to eat? Starving, dude.” Brendon was standing still now.

He put two cups of dog food in a bowl for Dot and stood aside to let her eat it before going to wash his hands.

“There’s, there’s not a lot. Uh if you’re not vegetarian again there’s bacon in the freezer I could defrost?” offered Ryan.

“Bacon sounds awesome,” said Brendon, grinning widely at him.

Ryan dug a pack out from the back of the freezer. Organic. He didn’t remember buying it but he’d noted it on a late night snack rampage a few days back. Hopefully it was still edible, but hey Brendon didn’t need to know the sell by date. It had been frozen anyway so like, they’d eaten worse things. He peeled it out of the plastic wrapping and put it in a frying pan on the stove. Brendon had pulled himself onto the counter, kicking his legs to some repetitive rhythm. Eight years ago, God, Ryan would have said something but this him just kept poking at the bacon in the vague hope it would cook faster. Dottie came padding over, settling down below Brendon’s feet. He laughed and began humming something to the rhythm. Ryan stared at the pan and the steam emanating from the slowly defrosting meat and wished he was anywhere but there.

“Do, do you want to call someone to pick you up?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m good. Can I use your bathroom?” Brendon turned back on the bright smile and shot it right in his direction, sliding off the counter. “How’s that bacon coming along.”

Ryan prodded it and scowled. “Slowly. The bathroom’s down the hall, first door to your left.”

“Thanks,” said Brendon. He stretched and walked out. Ryan breathed in, breathed out and turned up the stove. He’d give it ten more minutes before giving up and just having some cereal. Hopefully he’d leave after being fed. 

Dot whined and shot him puppy eyes. Wow, talk about changing loyalties. He sighed again before crouching down to cuddle her. 

“Half an hour girl,” he whispered into her fur. God, this was so unfair. All these fucking years and he just walked right back in like nothing had changed. 

He stood up and checked the bacon, which finally looked vaguely edible. Brendon walked in as he scraped it onto two separate plates, one of which he handed to the other man.

“Cutlery’s in that drawer. No, the one above.”

Brendon retrieved two forks and passed one to him. For a few minutes they ate in silence, Dot’s occasional whimpers the only noise as she scratched at the door.

“I got divorced,” said Brendon.

“Wow, didn’t notice.” He grabbed Dot’s lead and a bag. “I need to walk the dog. If you leave, lock the door behind you.”

He clipped it on, glancing back as he walked out. Brendon looked as uncomfortable as Ryan felt, holding his plate and standing in the middle of the empty kitchen. He shut the front door and walked away from his own home. Step one, find somewhere private to call Spencer. Also pray that the number he had was still actually a functioning number. They hadn’t texted in what, six or seven months? There’d been a wedding, to which he wasn’t invited. Spencer hadn’t replied to his ‘congratulations’ so that would be the most recent thing. He pulled out his phone and found the contact. Well, he was perfectly sober now so if there ever was a moment…

Spencer picked up after five rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Ryan.”

“Oh. Um, is there any reason why you’re calling?”

In the background he heard someone yell something. 

“Just an old friend,” Spencer called back. “Anyway, can I help you?”

“Brendon’s at my house.”

Spencer said nothing for a few seconds. “Did… did you invite him over? I don’t know if you heard but he just separated from his wife and he –“

“He invited himself over. Look, can you come pick him up or something? I don’t mind him crashing on my couch over night but he doesn’t have a car. Or particularly seem to want to leave.”

“I’m not in LA. Look, can he stay with you just till Monday. Four days, then I’ll come and take him back to mine. He was supposed to be staying there anyway but I guess that didn’t work out. I guess it was stupid to leave him on his own…”

“I don’t, I don’t know if that would be-“

“There’s no one else around, and he shouldn’t be alone. I get that its awkward and I’m really sorry to ask you to do this, but can he just stay with you for a few days and I’ll get him out of your life and-”

“OK, fine, he can stay. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Ryan hung up before Spencer could say anything else and looked at Dottie. She stood back up, pulling him in the direction of the park and he let himself be tugged along for a moment before waking up and starting to move properly. 

He walked around the park for a few hours. There were a few dogs and dog walkers who he knew by face if not by name and he let Dot off the lead to run around, laughing and stepping aside as the dogs nearly crashed into him in a tumble of flapping ears and paws. Eventually he called her to head back home, to Brendon. He clipped the lead on, stood back up, pulling her whining away in the direction of home.

It was around 10a.m. when he got back. Brendon was still there, back on the couch but awake now and watching TV.

“Hey! How was your walk?” he asked.

“Good.” He hung up the leash. “Spencer was wondering where you were.”

“He called?”

“I called him.”

“Oh, right. He’s out of town for the weekend, romantic get away with Linda.” Brendon smiled fondly. “Anyway, I was wondering if I could crash here for a couple of days. Not used to, y’know, an empty house.” He gestured vaguely.

Ryan sighed. “I told Spencer you could stay. I’ll go shopping at some point.”

“Yeah, that’d be cool. I’m sorry to-”

“It’s fine.” Ryan sat down on the couch next to him and snagged the remote, clicking blindly through the channels. 

“Hey! I was watching that.”

“Disney channel?”

“Says you, Mr. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. You might not have noticed but its actually only the names that are pretentious, the rest is bullshit. You got any video games?”

He blinked at the change in direction before clicking around and getting the Wii set up. He’d brought it at like 3a.m. one night a few years back when he’d wanted to play Just Dance for some reason unknown to sober, awake Ryan.

“Oooh. Mario Kart. You’re going down.” Brendon laughed for a second before getting up and grabbing the controllers from next to the TV. “Here, catch.” 

He tossed it at Ryan who fumbled but managed to catch it. He laughed and settled back down next to him, slightly too close. Ryan shifted over slightly, created a gap between their thighs.

“Who do you wanna play as?” asked Brendon. “Shotgun Princess Peach.” He started humming again, the same unfamiliar tune as earlier.

Ryan laughed and selected Yoshi. 

“So it’s reptiles in general, not just turtles.” Brendon smirked. “You’re going down, Ross. Like so down.”

“Which course do you want to play?”

“Mushroom gorge. C’mon, lets go.”

He clicked on the course. Brendon was obviously rusty, he noted a few seconds in. They’d all gotten pretty good on the bus because what else do a load of eighteen to nineteen year olds do but play random video games but he didn’t really play this kind of game much and evidently neither did Brendon, who fell off the track around half a minute in.

“Your controls aren’t sensitive enough.”

Brendon still played with his whole body, noted Ryan, still swung his shoulders as he changed direction, tongue stuck out slightly in concentration. He’d forgotten about that. Forgotten too how easily it was to get distracted as he bounced off the mushrooms into the void. Brendon laughed again, next to him, as he got Bullet Bill and shot off past a load of NPCs. It ended before he could catch up to Ryan, back in motion now, but they were tenth and eighth now, Bowser in between them. Ryan managed to get into sixth before he crossed the finish line and Brendon finished seventh, still laughing.

“Ok, ok, Yoshi Falls next.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, clicking on the course. “Next one I choose.”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, lets go.”

He confirmed the selection. Brendon managed to stay on the course this time, but Ryan fell over the edge, giving Brendon the lead.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked, giggling as he overtook Mario. 

Ryan smirked. “What do I get?”

Brendon’s shoulder pressed into his as he leaned to go around a corner. Ryan said nothing as he overtook until Brendon was in first with him just behind. He swerved to avoid a banana skin and Brendon laughed some more, breathlessly now. Lap three and he was gaining, overtaking, then Brendon’s fingers were tickling his sides. He swatted them away but the moment was gone and Brendon crossed in first place, Ryan managing just to pull second from Luigi.

“Told you I’d win. So what do I get?”

“I don’t…”

Brendon leaned over and kissed him. His breath caught as Brendon pressed closer, his hand buried in Ryan’s hair, holding him in place. Slowly his brain jerked back into life and he managed to get his hand between them and push Brendon away. “What?”

Brendon bit his lip, staring at him. “I…”

God, this was unfair. Brendon couldn’t just walk back into his life like this, start demanding shit again. Wow, his wife left him. Back to being bored. Ryan was done being fucked around. He could stay in his house but fuck knows he was done having his boundaries ignored. Ryan stood up, shoving Brendon away and grabbed his coat. “I’m going out.”

He spent the afternoon on the beach, sitting and staring blankly into the sea. He’d chosen a position just out of sight of the house, far enough that Brendon wouldn’t be able to see him. Fuck. Brendon had kissed him, not drunk, not high. Not exhausted after a show, horny and trapped with a load of other guys. They’d made it clear this was off limits, Brendon had made it clear he didn’t want this after the split. Ryan had offered, offered everything but Brendon had made his choice. He didn’t get to go back, not all these years on. There was a time when Brendon could have smiled and he’d have gone crawling at his feet, coked up and desperate for anyone to love him but those days were gone. He was over Brendon, Brendon was over him. He was probably just confused, came to Ryan hoping Ryan would pay him the attention he’d offered years ago.

Brendon sat down next to him and he kept staring out into the waves. The tide was coming in. An hour or so more and the sea would be creeping up to their toes, a few more and he would be carried away.

“I’m sorry.” Brendon looked at him quickly before focusing his gaze on the horizon.

“It’s fine. It’s a one off, you weren’t yourself. Let’s just move on.”

“No, I. Ry, I didn’t get to explain myself. Can, can I just?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“I talked to Sarah this morning. Apparently everyone’s saying she left me. Which isn’t true. She told me to talk to you, that I shouldn’t spend my whole life never actually getting on with it. Only. Only I’m not too good at talking. I’m good at speaking but not, not saying things that matter. I get scared, chicken out. But you know that, Ry. And I always chicken out. I chickened out back in 2010, when I said the shit I said. I’m sorry for that, by the way. It wasn’t a good time for me, either. Not good for any of us. I just, I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you. What’s that song? Only know you love her when you let her go?”

“Did you leave your wife for me?”

“It was a mutual thing. Sarah, she was getting tired of always running and hiding and having fans photograph our cars or appear outside her house. And in the end there wasn’t enough love to make it worth it. We’re still friends, we’ll still be friends. It’s just, there wasn’t enough love.”

Ryan stood up and offered Brendon his hand. The water was now reaching his ankles with every wave, it was dark and somewhere up there there were stars. Brendon took it. They stood for a moment on the beach, fingers intertwining, before Brendon’s hand found his hip. He was humming again and they stood there, swaying slightly, holding each other. Brendon leaned against him. He pressed his smile into Brendon’s hair as the other man held him closer. Eventually Brendon pulled away.

“We should head back.” He kept holding Ryan’s hand and Ryan pulled him back towards the house, fumbling the keys out of his pocket.

“Do you want to go out, get dinner?” asked Ryan. “I know this pizzeria five minutes away. Or, or we could order something in?”

“We should talk so probably order something? Pizza sounds good. Compromise. Just get plain pizza.”

Ryan had the number on speed dial and ordered two margheritas.

“So.” He sat down on the couch next to Brendon, who smiled up at him. “I’m not mad at you, not anymore.” He hushed Brendon before he could say anything. “I’m not in love with you. Not after anything. I won’t deny that I feel something, but you can only break a guy’s heart so many times.”

“I know Ry, I don’t expect – I don’t expect you to feel the same. It’s been years since we’ve properly talked. But, I’d like to try. See how far we can go. We’ve grown up now. Been with other people, had a taste of what you need to do to actually have a functioning relationship. C-cause we were fucked up as kids, Ry. You were hurting and I know how you felt but I didn’t know how to offer back that intensity of feeling when I’d never felt that way about anyone else, when I didn’t have anything to compare it to. And you had Keltie, you promised that she meant nothing to you but you were planning to propose, Ry. I needed something to hold myself up when you left. So I found Sarah.”

“I’ve told you my side so many times. You just never listened. I wasn’t with Keltie, B. You had every chance.” And he had, Ryan had given him everything. There was something bubbling up in his throat, something screaming at him to leave before he got too caught up like he'd promised he wouldn't. The blur of the beach faded. He couldn't do this. Their fingers were still wound around each other, but that was Brendon taking something that didn't belong to him, not anymore. He pulled himself away and stood up.

“I know, Ry. God, I know. I just, I got caught up in the split and hating you and Jon and by the end I didn’t know which way was up or what I felt and – Ry, wait, please. I’m sorry.”

Ryan paused by the kitchen door. “I need to feed Dot.”

“I fed her earlier. And walked her. I figured she probably needed it and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“I never hated you. You hurt me so badly Brendon. And I tried so hard to keep it together but you, god, you… you just walk back into my life like you never did anything wrong and I don’t know how to handle that. I don’t know how to forgive you, I don’t know how to stay mad at you. I was happy before you came – I’m getting my life back on track and this? I don’t fucking need this, fans bothering me and blaming me for your fucking divorce, everyone screaming at me when it goes wrong because it invariably will and when that happens? It’ll be my fault, no matter who was actually to blame. So unless you’ve got something to offer that makes all of that worth it, you can stay at my house but come Monday I want you out of my life. Got it, Brendon?”

Brendon stared at him before bowing his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Comes a point where sorry isn’t enough. I’m going to bed.”

“But what about the pizza?”

“There’s money on the shelf. Put whatever you don’t finish into the fridge. Goodnight.”

Ryan took his meds that night for the first time in months and let himself drift off. He dreamed again that night, someone in black and white mouthing at his neck and jawline leaving traces of technicolor scrawled all over him, marking him out in vivid hues against the darkness that surrounded them. He was hard when he woke up, breathing hitching slightly. His hand reached out to where the other person had been but nothing. Maybe a ghosting of warmth, a faint wrinkle on the sheets. He sighed, settling back, unwilling to do anything with Brendon probably still waiting downstairs. His room had gone from a sanctuary to a prison overnight. 

The sound of the front door opening came from downstairs and Ryan started up, pushing himself out of bed. His watch read 5a.m., too early for anyone to be awake. Too early for Brendon to be awake, if he still kept to the same schedule that he had years back. He crept as quietly as possible down the stairs to see Brendon standing in the hall, looking at him.

“What are you doing?”

He was still in his clothes, shaking slightly. “Ryan, Ryan I messed up. I’m sorry.”

“What did you do? Where have you been?”

“I couldn’t sleep and, I’m s-so sorry, I took Dot for a walk cause you were asleep and she was, she ran off after something and I-I tried to follow her Ryan but it was dark and I couldn’t see her and I’ve been out all night looking and I can’t find her Ryan.”

Ryan tried to keep breathing as Brendon trembled. In, out. Five times. Five seconds. “It. It’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ve got a – she’s got a chip. I’ll activate it and we can go find her.”

He smiled at Brendon, shaking himself now as he crossed, slowly slowly stay calm, over to the computer and pulled up the web app. Fuck, his password. He’d never had to use this, never lost Dot. Another deep breathe and he typed it in, tried the first thing that came into his head then the second. The third attempt worked. 

“She’s still in the park. Come on.” Ryan ran over to grab his coat and keys as Brendon picked up his laptop, unplugging it and following after. The car journey was awkward, sitting in silence on empty 5a.m. Sunday morning roads. Ryan risked a glance over at Brendon, dusky in the streetlights. Brendon looked back at him, caught his eyes, offered a hesitant smile. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. We’ll find her.”

“You’re on the verge of a panic attack, Ry, and that’s not OK. It’s my fault. I’m really sorry that this happened. I can, I can go when we get home.”

“Spencer’s coming to pick you up tomorrow, and frankly B I don’t want you on your own either.”

“I lied.”

“What?” Panic bubbled up in his throat. Shit, was Dot OK? What the fuck was he talking about? Shit.

“I lied to you.” Brendon turned to face him. “Spencer’s not out of town. There’s no romantic getaway or anything. I asked him to cover for me. I-I wasn’t in your part of town, I got a cab over. I asked Gabe where you keep your spare key, you used to keep it above the door before. I wanted to see you, Ry, and I knew you didn’t want to see me so I lied.”

Ryan tried to breathe through the noise in his head, the sharp tang bubbling up through the ache of exhaustion. “Is Dot even missing?”

“No. She’s with Sarah.”

“But the tracker?”

“With Sarah in the park.”

Ryan pulled over and grabbed his laptop, hurrying in the direction of his dog. Brendon jogged to keep up, calling his name. Fuck, he’d learned to hurt him good. He’d always known but this, this was just cruel.

“Ryan I’m sorry I scared you, just. Ry, c’mon.”

He kept walking down the shadowed paths, trying to remember the best way to keep moving in the direction of Dot down the familiar routes, obscured by the half-light of almost dawn. Brendon jogged along just behind him. Thankfully, he was now silent, just following after expressionlessly. There was a glimmer of bright light through the trees and Brendon pointed at it.

“She’s there. Ry-”

Ryan was already hurrying in the direction of the light. Brendon swore and once again came harrying at his heels. They were off the path now, Ryan breaking into a run. Dottie barked and he grabbed her, held her close, buried his face in her fur and just breathed in the warmth and comfort he gave her. She wriggled in his arms and licked his face. People were talking beside him, he looked up to see Brendon lightly touch a woman he recognized as Sarah on the shoulder. She smiled slightly at him before walking off. He nuzzled his face back into Dottie’s side, trying to summon the courage to deal with Brendon, when he felt a hesitant hand touch his back.

“Ryan. Ry, look.”

Unwillingly he raised his head. There was a plastic table and chairs set up, covered with a tablecloth with candles on top. Laid for two. Brendon pulled out a basket from underneath and looked at him, smiled softly.

“Did, did you set this up?” asked Ryan. Something cracked in his voice.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Ryan. I know I’ve said it so much these past few days but that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it every time. I’m sorry for hurting you so many times over these past years, I’m sorry for not trusting you – or myself – enough to let myself be with you when we had the chance all those years ago. But, but I can’t tell you I’m sorry for this weekend. I know I lied to you, but I needed to see you again. Maybe I should have gone about it some other way but I couldn’t see you ever letting me in otherwise and, and I hope you can let me in. Because I miss you so much, Ryan, more than I could ever explain. I wouldn’t be surprised if you just tell me to leave now, that I went too far and I’m so so sorry for scaring you like this. But I hope you’ll take up my offer of breakfast, cause I spent all night setting it up. Also I cooked which never happens so, y’know, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Ryan looked up at him, before standing up and running over, pulling the other man into a tight hug. He was crying slightly, nose blocked. Brendon laughed breathlessly and held on just as tight.

Brendon kissed his cheek, pulling away slightly. “Maybe this time discussion doesn’t have to end in a screaming match?”

“I needed to get it out someone,” Ryan said, wiping his eyes.

“Well, you ever need someone to scream at I promise not to kidnap your dog next time.”

“Do that again and you can consider yourself banned from my couch.”

“There I was hoping I had a pass off the couch anyway.” Brendon winked at him and led him to the table, pulling out his chair for him.

He sat down, still slightly dazed as Brendon perched himself opposite.

“OK, so we’ve got blueberry pancakes that didn’t quite work as planned. They still taste good though. Uh, there’s orange juice. I bought that from a shop cause like, I only had overnight. Oooh, toast. And coffee. It’s good coffee, I can vouch for it. Oh, and there’s something for you.” Brendon pulled a rose out from the basket and offered it to Ryan, giggling, before splitting the pancakes into two piles and handing him one. 

Ryan laid the rose down next to his plate and began to eat. He looked up at Brendon, who grinned at him, feet pressing together under the table. Their ankles knocked together slightly, Brendon’s teeth illuminated by the candle and the sunlight slowly beginning to poke over the horizon. 

“You could write a song about this,” said Brendon, no longer smiling.

“I don’t think I will. Sometimes, sometimes something just needs to belong to us. Will you?”

“I kinda want to kiss you now. If that’s OK with you.”

Again, in and out. He could, he could say yes and let himself be swept up in Brendon and all the intensity he offered. But what then – Brendon decided what he wanted in seconds, like a kid in that respect, but he got bored with it just as fast and there were all the problems from the before. Just because Brendon was still going with the big gestures didn’t mean he could offer the smaller stuff or the emotional support that Ryan needed.

“The park will open soon, we should probably get moving.” Ryan offered Brendon a hand and pulled him up, helping him bundle the breakfast stuff into the basket.

“How were you planning to get the table and chairs back?” asked Ryan.

“Uh, carry them? We could just abandon them.”

Yeah, Ryan wasn’t supporting that kind of littering. “C’mon, we’re taking these to the car.”

He stacked the chairs and tucked them under his arms, grabbing the basket. Brendon picked up the table, scowling but silent, and grabbed Dot’s leash. “We might get caught if we have to get these back.”

Ryan ignored him and set off in the direction of his car, less hurriedly than he’d come but still quickly. In the just post-dawn light the trees caught on the sun. He wondered what they looked like, two men carrying picnic equipment out of a park at dawn, walking side by side in the half-light. Not wanting to be spotted, he sped up and broke away from Brendon, opening his trunk and loading the basket into it. Brendon caught up and he put Dot in the back of the car, manhandling the table and chairs in next to the basket. They got into the car in silence, Brendon glancing at him. Ryan refused to look in his direction. There would be a question there, one he wasn’t sure he had the answer to. 

“You can’t do this to me,” said Brendon as he pulled in to park. “You can’t act like we’re fine only to ignore me the second we’re out of the moment. It’s not fair. I want to change, Ryan. I want something more – something public even. An actual relationship with all the mess that brings with it. I want you, I want everyone to look at you and think how lucky I am. Look at me Ryan, please.”

“You – I, I can’t think straight around you, Brendon. You know it. And how do I know you’re not using that.” He kept his eyes focused straight ahead. Not this time, Satan. 

“But, but I wouldn’t-”

Ryan knew Brendon understood then. Because he would do that, he had. Once burned, forever shy.

He got out of the car, let Dot out and carried the table back to the house. Brendon joined him with the chairs and basket a few minutes later. Still, he said nothing. There wasn’t so much to say.

“I’m going on tour next week. You could come out and visit us?” Brendon sounded hesitant, afraid. Like he’d sounded when he’d lied about Dot. More acting, then.

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“I know. I just, I wondered if you’d want to come anyway.”

“I don’t. I’m going out, feed Dot at eight and five, don’t wait up.”

It was a waste of a day in the end. Around three he stumbled into a church, Catholic. Well, they certainly had a lot to save in him. Wasn’t it the Catholic church that used to charge for a ticket to heaven? They’d brushed over that fact at school. He had money, they might as well let him in if that’s what they needed. There was still a smell of incense most likely left over from mass, still that faint memory of too many people breathing in the same space. He sucked it in, let it fade into his skin, in the faintly glowing building – sun steeping in through the stained glass. God – the thing that had held him and Brendon together. Well the rejection of God anyway. He’d never been a good little Catholic, his dad hadn’t cared particularly what he thought either way. Precious blessings. Maybe that was what was wrong with Brendon, his idea of love was something that manifested in big things, in miracles, not in the quiet moments.

When Ryan eventually stumbled out at six, dazed and smelling of incense, he briefly considered heading back. Brendon would be there until tomorrow. He’d hope until tomorrow. But then Brendon would be wherever he was going on tour and Ryan would be able to breathe again. One more day. He went to Dan’s that night, spent hours talking to him. Dan had beer, he had water, and slowly they relaxed back into it, slumped on Dan’s bed with the TV on. Nothing happened and he didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Dan had been a good thing until he wasn’t. It was a sad thing, no longer needing someone, but Dan needed a good time relationship and Ryan had been a train wreck slowly piecing itself back together. Match made in heaven. When he eventually went home it was midnight and Brendon was on the couch, no Dot. She came trotting down the stairs when he whistled quietly. He let out a ragged breath.

That night there were no dreams or if there were he didn’t recall them. When he went downstairs there was no one there, just a neatly folded blanket and a note. He picked it up.

“Thanks. I hope I see you soon I hope you’re happy and find someone who can make you happy I’m sorry”

Shit. Ryan flopped face down on the couch, the smell of Brendon flooding his senses. He’d – he’d expected to have a chance to say something else. This left a bad taste in his mouth, like something had been lost. He didn’t even have his number or any way to get in touch with Brendon. Besides Spencer. He pulled out his phone and prayed Spencer would pick up.

“You fucked up,” Spencer said as way of greeting. “Like you majorly fucked up, you know that right?”

“Yes, I know. Is he back at yours?”

Spencer sighed. “He arrived back at like two a.m. and flew out at six. He’s gonna be in France for the next few days, start of a Europe tour.”

“Did he-?” Ryan wasn’t even entirely sure what he was trying to say. 

“You, he was crying, Ryan. I don’t even know what you did to fuck him up that badly.”

“How am I supposed to trust him? It’s fine for you, he didn’t break your fucking heart Spence. And now he’s back like he did absolutely fucking nothing wrong and I’m supposed to be completely fine with it. How do we come back from that?”

“He didn’t want to fuck a coked up drunk who could barely remember his own name most days. Wow, big deal. You were toxic, Ryan, and we weren’t getting caught up in your bullshit because you ruined everything. He spent so long trying to help you when you were sliding downwards but you couldn’t fucking see it. So, yeah. You fucked up, over and over again.”

Ryan tried not to let the tears streaming down his face show in his voice. “He showed up to two AA meetings. Too busy helping you out. And I, and I don’t blame him for that. But I needed somebody and everyone was busy and yeah, I collapsed. I fell apart. You do not get to blame me for that. You-you do not get to blame me for needing someone, for struggling.”

For a few long seconds there was silence over the line, save the sound of Spencer breathing. “I’m sorry. You’re right, that was uncalled for and I’m sorry for bringing it up. I recognize that your relationship with Brendon is complicated and that I’m not exactly unbiased. But, he does care about you, as much as I hate to say it. He always has. And he may not necessarily handle it well, or express it in ways that you need but he is trying. I know I don’t get a particular say in this but Brendon cares about you, and you care about him more than you’d like to admit and who knows, maybe we could learn to get along again even if its just for Brendon’s sake.”

“Would it be just for Brendon’s sake?” He wasn’t entirely sure how the words escaped through the lump building in his throat, through the sniffles and mess he was making of himself.

“I’ve missed you, Ryan. Come what may, you’re my brother and that’s not going to change. And yeah, I’ve missed you. Go after him and after, when you come home, maybe drop by. I’ve got a wife now, and I think you’d like her.”

“I’d like that.”

“He’ll be in Paris for the next three days, playing a show tomorrow night. I’ll tell Zack to let you in.”

“He’ll do that?”

“Yeah, trust me. You just worry about getting there.”

Spencer hung up and Ryan rushed over to the laptop, searching for flights to Paris. He booked one that left in two hours, calling Daniel to ask him to dogsit as he packed an overnight bag.

He was halfway to LAX and stuck in traffic before he realized he was still in his pyjamas. “Well, shit.” 

He rested his head on the wheel and just let it all sink in. He was headed to Paris, chasing after his ex-bandmate, at the demand – sort of – of another ex-bandmate. Spence had texted him five minutes ago, telling him to get to the Salle Pleyel, apparently the venue, for seven p.m. tomorrow. Apparently Zack had agreed to let him in, provided he didn’t get recognized. With any luck Paris had forgotten all about the original panic! and he wouldn’t even need the hat and sunglasses he’d packed.

There were thirty minutes till the gate closed when he arrived at the airport. The check in started insisting his bag – literally a rucksack – went in the hold, security possibly saw that he was kinda going commando and he managed to get lost on the way to the gate. It took five minutes of explaining that he was on ‘a quest for true love’, the air hostess’s words not his, before they actually let him on the plane since apparently his backpack was suspicious. He kinda blamed the bedhead. He spent the flight in a state of nervous agitation, staring out of the window and gnawing on a fingernail. The woman on the aisle seat next to him had attempted conversation when they’d got on, asking him why he was headed to Paris. In a brief moment of honesty he’d told her he was going after a boy and the resulting silence told him this would probably be an awkward journey. Then she asked him to swap with her son in the window seat, then swapped with her son. Yay. Great journey. At least he’d gotten the window to overthink exactly what he was doing.

And he was being kinda stupid. Chasing after a guy he’d told to basically get lost a little more than 24 hours ago, at the word of a friend he hadn’t spoken to properly for years. Yes, Ryan, go get him. Only Brendon had probably had his fun, was probably already over it and moving on. Shit, he’d better not be moving on it had been a flipping day. The air hostess, the same as he’d told a brief overview of his problems, started offering him wine at one point ‘to calm his nerves’. Apparently this was kinda a biggie since they normally didn’t offer alcohol on this airline. He’d given it to the woman next to him as a peace offering, and she finally stopped muttering to her son about hellfire. Hello, right next to you lady. The kid shot him a sympathetic smile and he smiled back. The woman shifted so she was obscuring him with her whole body. He raised an eyebrow and turned back to the window.

 

The flight landed at 10:30 p.m L.A. time aka 6:30 a.m. Paris time. Ryan hadn’t slept over the flight and knew the day was gonna suck so bad. Still, he had a job to do. A quick google on the airport Wi-Fi directed him to a cheap nearby hotel and to a music shop around half an hour away. He went there first, picked up the first vaguely decent sounding guitar before hailing a taxi to the hotel and booking a room. It was cheap enough that they hopefully wouldn’t care too much about sound complaints, not during the day anyway. He’d been playing a lot lately, anyway, never stopped, but not these songs. Not for a while anyway. Every so often he’d find himself strumming a familiar melody but those times were few and far between now and he hadn’t played through any of the songs in years. He looked around the dismal room, the cracking wallpaper and cigarette burns on the bed. Showers and toilet were at the end of the hall, to be shared with the rest of the floor. There wasn’t much point cleaning himself up without a change of clothes, so that wasn’t going to be a problem. 

He tuned up the instrument, playing a couple of chords to get his fingers warmed up before letting them slip back into the familiar old grooves, let himself play, finally, play. Once he’d got the guitar to the level he needed it to be, got his fingers flying over the fretboard to that melody that still brought tears to his eyes, he began working on the vocals. He’d never sang it on his own before. His words, Brendon’s voice. Time to own up to it. Accept what he’d been trying to say as his own. In the end, it had meant something, Brendon repeating his ‘I love you’s in a language he could understand. Not necessarily enough but it had meant something. Six o’clock arrived and he set down the guitar and ordered a taxi to the venue. He’d be late but that was kinda the plan, not be seen until it all came to a head. French ran through his head, now that was one subject he couldn’t see himself using when he took it. He needed to say something though. Uh, pardon je lui aime et j’ai un chanson que je dois chanter. It got the meaning across anyway.

The taxi arrived and he abandoned the room, still in his pyjamas. “Uh, Salle Pleyel sil vous plait.”

He sat there, shivering slightly in his thin t-shirt. The cap and sunglasses felt like scant protection against the magnitude of what he was about to do but hey if scandal was the goal then what did it really matter. He hummed the tune under his breath to keep his voice warmed up. His fingers danced up and down his leg in a motion that reminded him of Brendon when they’d just met, young and full of energy. Life hadn’t worn him down like it had Ryan, not completely. Not yet, anyway. Ryan didn’t want to be something that tore away at that life force. Maybe it was too late but he could do his best. He pulled on his disguise as he went around the back entrance where Zack was waiting.

“I thought you’d skipped,” he said, taking in Ryan’s pale expression. “They’re up on stage already.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” Ryan pushed past him and backstage, sizing up the various guitars back there. One of Brendon’s would probably be best.

“What are you about to do? Ross?” Zack pulled at his shoulder.

“Something big,” Ryan said and turned back to the instruments. 

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“Which of these is Brendon’s?” Ryan asked, ignoring the trepidation in his voice.

Zack sighed. “These two are.”

He gestured at two guitars slightly separate to the others, one of them an acoustic. Ryan selected the acoustic and hid himself behind a curtain. “Nobody tell the band that I’m here. Got it?”

Zack nodded and gestured at everyone to keep doing their stuff. Eventually Brendon and the rest of the band came off stage. Zack shot a glance in his direction but he stayed put.

A few minutes and they were back out, Ryan emerged from the curtain.

“He needs that for the last song, you realize.”

He hadn’t but that would hopefully work in his favor. He let the sound wash over him until Brendon was announcing the last song. For the first time since Cape Town, Ryan was on stage with Panic! at the Disco. There was confused murmuring from the crowd and Brendon was staring at him, mouth open. He pushed him out of the way and desperately tried to remember his hurriedly thought up speech.

“Uh, bonjour Paris. Il y a quelque chance que tu me connais, mais si non, je m’appelle Ryan Ross et j’ai un chanson mais ce n’est pas pour vous. Brendon, je t’aime.”

Still in his pyjamas, on stage in front of the crowd, Ryan played the opening chords of the song. Brendon stood staring at him, crying slightly, as he began to sing.

“If all our life is but a dream, fantastic posing greed  
then we should feed our jewelry to the sea  
for diamonds do appear to be   
just like broken glass to me”

Brendon’s voice harmonized with his for the next part of the verse.

“And then she said she can’t believe  
genius only comes along in storms of fabled foreign tongues  
tripping eyes and flooded lungs  
northern downpour sends its love”

Their eyes locked and Brendon was kissing him, Ryan holding him as close as he possibly could without crushing the guitar. They were both crying, he noted, salt seeping into the kiss.

Brendon broke the kiss and whispered into his ear.

“I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments much appreciated, tumblr is karma-with-a-catch


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